


Your Precious Human Feelings

by Pinalinet



Category: Portal (Video Game)
Genre: ...and another android Wheatley, Android Wheatley, Clones, M/M, Weirdness, does that qualify as crackfic/ship?, heavily implied romance between aforementioned artificial lifeforms, kind old ladies, selfcest, selfcest?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2014-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-13 00:04:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2129481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pinalinet/pseuds/Pinalinet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wheatley seeks relationship advice from a friendly neighbourhood human female.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Precious Human Feelings

**Author's Note:**

> I ship Wheatley with a clone of himself. If that weirds you out, you might want to jump ship at this point. I won't blame you.  
> Aside from that, this is a short drabble I wrote a while back to ease myself back into writing.

“Not to alarm you, but I think I may _actually_ be dying.”

Doloris Baker (but everyone called her Dee) squinted up at the figure in the doorway, the warm afternoon sunlight throwing his form into harsh shadow. He may have been hard for her to recognise, with her slightly shaky 76-year-old eyesight, had it not been for the glowing blue pupils in the middle of the bit of shadow that must have been his head, and the much larger circle of identical blue light lower down – chest, not stomach, she noted, and moved aside to let the six-foot humanoid robot enter.

He looked... well, exactly how he had when Dee had first found them, somehow managing to undo nine months of adapting to a new life since the last time she saw him: six days ago, at his wedding. His eyes were darting in every direction behind rectangular spectacles, unable to fix on anything for longer than a couple seconds; he twitched at everyday noises, like the boiling of water in the kitchen, and the sound of his own feet on the creaky wooden floor (mostly covered with a set of mismatched, colourful rugs), and the gentle _tink-tink_ of the windchime hanging in the open window. He basically moved like a blue tit that someone had been dripfeeding caffeine.

“Don't give me that look, this is serious! Could drop dead any second – bam, gone, just like that, and you're busy giving me _looks_ \- ought to call the- the people, you know- RSPCA, bet they'd love to hear about this-”

“Wheatley...”

“Obvious neglect. _Racism_ , that's what it is - it's because I'm a robot and not a smelly human, isn't it?”

“ _Wheatley._ ”

The effect was immediate. Wheatley twitched, holding his hands up to his chest nervously, obscuring the glow of the power indicator on his front, temporarily intimidated into silence.

“You know how this works, Wheatley. Sit down, breathe – don't say it, I _know_ you don't breathe, but just pretend, like you always do – and tell me, _slowly_ ,” she looked directly at him, emphasising the word, “what is going on.”

For a moment, the robot looked like he was going to argue, his mouth opening in preparation, but his eyes eventually flicked away, unable to maintain eye contact. He sheepishly moved to sit on one of the two brown leather sofas, strafing a very old, battered coffee table, and Dee took a seat opposite him.

Dee was doing pretty well for herself at 76, frankly. She lived alone, since her youngest son had moved out, in the small, cosy house where they were currently seated, close to the centre of their little town – she was considered a fairly important figure to the community thanks to her help in founding it after the Combine war. She had even been mayor for a while, before she'd decided to let someone else have a whack at it. And good thing, too – had someone _else_ come home from their weekend hike with two uncannily human androids at their heels, she wasn't entirely sure they would have overlooked how bizarre – and potentially dangerous - the whole situation was.

And it _was_ bizarre. When she had first come across the two scrawny, bespectacled mousey-blondes, she had assumed they were the robot equivalent of brothers... but it was a lot more than that. Thankfully, her look of utter confusion when both introduced themselves as “Wheatley” was answered with an unending waterfall of scattered exposition on their part.

They were the same person. At least, mostly the same person, up until the point the first – the taller one currently sitting in her living room, with the side parting and the power indicator on his chest – split off from the metal football they had apparently been up until that point, and became a separate entity and – it was all a bit confusing, honestly.

“ _What's going on_? I'll show you what's going on-” Wheatley removed his hands from his chest, and poked his power indicator accusingly, as if it were a separate person. “This thing's only gone completely bonkers – has been for days, no sign of stopping, driving me up the bloody wall, it is – I mean, every time I look at him, it goes mental! Lights up like a- a- let's put it this way, at this rate you might as well stick me on a cliff and call me a lighthouse, because that's- those are the, the levels of severity we're looking at here, lighthouse level-”

Dee frowned at him, attempting to pick out the scattered pieces of useful information from the mixed bag that was Wheatley's speech. “When you look at him... you mean Wheatley?”

“ _Yes_ , Wheatley, who else would I be looking at, one of you lot? No- no offense, obviously, just not- not a fan of all the _liquids_ really, got liquids coming out of your ears – literally, as well! I'm not even joking! Saw a bloke stick his finger in his ear the other day, just popped it right in there, you'll never guess what came out- only _liquid_! Baffling. I mean, you'd think you'd all run out of it eventually-”

“Wheatley, _your power core_.”

“O-oh! Right, yeah, yep. Back to the... the problem at hand, I like your thinking. Very... direct. U-um...” Wheatley blinked a couple times, furrowing his brow. “What was I saying?”

“When you look at the other Wheatley...”

“Right! Exactly, spot on, lights right up. Really obvious. Embarrassing. Figured out a _genius_ way of concealing it, though, obviously, you'll like this-” he folded his arms across his chest, obscuring the light, and looked very pleased with himself. “Look at that! Flawless. _Stealth mode._ Stroke of brilliance, really...”

Dee raised an eyebrow. It wasn't very stealthy at all – he looked like he was trying to give himself a hug. “What's embarrassing about it?”

Wheatley looked at her, immediately unfolding his arms to resume his usual healthy use of gesture with his speech. “Well, it's not only that, is it? No, hah, see, if it was _just_ the core, that'd be- that'd be all right! Manageable, I mean. But no, not happening, it's _worse_ than that - not only does my power core throw a fit, but my memory banks- oh, you do not want to know what goes on with my memory banks, I tell you. It's like I'm reliving it over and over again, absolutely mad, and- and _worse_ , then I start thinking hey, you know what? I wouldn't mind having another go, actually, right now, go right up to him and- and put my hand on his neck, around the back, there, with- with the little bits of hair in my fingers, quite like those, if I'm honest, would really like to-”

Dee stared, fascinated, as the bulb of light on the android's chest began to flash, ramping up in intensity.

“-to give them a little pat right now- just a little one!- and- and maybe after that I could, um, look at his face and, you know, sort of get, get close, preferably, close enough that I can put... put my face _on_ his face, allowing for a- a bit of technical manoeuvring, obviously, and maybe then we could- j-just-”

He made a movement in the air with his hands as if embracing an invisible person, his power core now at stage lighting levels of brightness inside the dimly lit room. Dee couldn't help herself – she let out a small, warm laugh of amusement at the robot's antics, and he immediately stopped what he was doing, staring at her open-mouthed.

“What?”

“ _You want to kiss your husband,”_ she smiled at the ridiculousness of it.

“W-well, yes, all right, if you want to get all- all _technical_ with the _human jargon_ then that might be how you choose to- to put it-”

“Wheatley, we talked about this before. That's normal.”

“ _For humans!_ I'm a bloody robot! _And_ , before you go assuming I don't know what- what it's all about, I know exactly what it's all about, something to do with making the- the tiny humans- babies, that's the one, babies- but- but we agreed on that, we said, yes, let's get married, but without all the, you know, the disturbing humany bits. That was the arrangement, here. Get married, brilliant, have the whole – the _life partnership_ bit, that's the important bit, really, let's be honest – and skip all the... _kissing_ and the touching and- well, just the whole _love_ area, really...” His chest flashed bright again, and he immediately glared down at it, furious. “Oi! Stop it!”

Wheatley stood up again, making a small 'rrgh' noise of frustration, and began to pace around the room. “I can't do it! I didn't think it was gonna be like this, I thought it'd be different! I thought it'd be- be exactly the same as before, only married. That was what I had in my head for the whole... post-marriage situation. Not all this- this _flashing_ business, and not even being able to be in the same bloody room as him- I mean, what's the point being life partners if you can't even be in the same room? Mad! Absolutely mental!”

He flopped back down onto the sofa, face first, his long legs dangling off the end, over the armrest. “Mmmfhf mgh mffr, fmh mnn fngh-”

“I can't hear you, Wheatley, dear.”

He turned his head to uncover his mouth. “It's the bloody kiss, that's what it is! Got some- some _human magic_ in it, that's when all this lunacy started, it's- it's _corrupted_ my systems or- and now- now I can't stop thinking about it! Well, not- not _it_ , more like _him_ in general, really, that's the problem area, here, that's what makes me feel like- like someone's giving me a flippin' electric surge, like they've gone and hooked me right up to the bloody facility reactor- and- and it's not even just when I see him! All I have to do is _think_ about him and everything-”

“Wheatley, you do realise you're in love with him, right?”

Wheatley sat up suddenly, making a face at her, and spoke as if addressing a particularly dimwitted child. “I'm a _robot_!”

Dee tilted her head. “But you weren't always a robot.”

She had never actually said it, but she had suspected for a long while. True artificial lifeforms did not feel affection in the way it was obvious this one did for his partner – and his partner did for him. They were inseparable, and the only thing keeping each other sane. His silence, and flustered sideways glance, were all the response she needed; she did not feel the need to press him any further. This was something for Wheatley to come to terms with himself, and if he wanted to talk about it, she would let him be the one to bring up the subject.

After a few moments of rare silence from the robot, his eyes were back on her, his face an incredibly human imitation of distress and desperation. “But- but how do I make it stop, then?? I can't- I can't just _live_ with it, are you _mental_ , you have to _fix me_! Just- just make all this- _love_ , make it go away. That's it. That's all I'm asking for, here, all I want is these- these _feelings_ , gone. Tell you what, you can do whatever you want with them, even! Anything you can think of. Stick 'em in a jar, put them in... in someone else- don't actually know how this stuff works, if I'm honest, sort of... guessing here, really- educated guesses, obviously, highly educated-”

“Why do you want them _gone_??”

“Because that was the _arrangement_! Shook on it and everything, that's a _binding legal contract_ , that is. None of that- that love business. Very much an- an _off-limits_ area as far as we're concerned- I- I mean, _what's he gonna think when he finds out_?” Wheatley looked absolutely petrified, trembling like a mouse faced with a hawk.

Dee considered him for a moment, folding her arms and sitting back into the little sofa. “How do you know he doesn't feel the same way? You're him, and he's you. So why would you be the only one with these feelings?”

Wheatley stared at her, mouth slightly open as he processed this enquiry. “I- b-because- no, you're, hah, you're not taking into account- the- this is just a glitch! An error, a- a bug in my systems, I'm not _supposed_ to have all these...” he gestured to himself with frustration, “These _feelings_! It's just not _natural_ , is- is what I'm saying, and- and he's the newer model, isn't he? Probably fixed it in him! Didn't even bother rolling out an update for me, got absolutely nothing, as usual, thanks for that- bloody slackers, the lot of them-”

“ _Wheatley,_ think about this. What if he feels the same? And you go and... and whatever you're talking about... delete it? Oh, that would be awful.”

Wheatley hesitated again, furrowing his brow in thought. “So- so- let me get this straight, you want me to... to ask him. Just like that, no- no preparation, just ask him if- if he has the same problem. The, ah, the feelings, love, and what not – and, if he doesn't murder me, right there, or... or leg it back to the flippin' facility, or get us un-married, or- or all of the above- oh god, I don't- I don't want him to leave!” The android wailed with panic, and leaned right across the coffee table to grab Dee's arms desperately. “You've got to do something, lady, come on - you're bloody brilliant, you are, you- you know how to fix everything, don't tell me you can't fix me-!”

Dee looked into his large, twitchy blue eyes kindly, smiling with amusement, and gently raised one of her hands to pat his arm, still latched onto her opposite arm. “Well, I _am_ flattered, I truly am, but oh, if only I could fix everything!” She laughed, with a hint of almost sadness. “No, dear, I can't fix you. But,” she raised a hand to stop him from speaking, as he had no doubt been about to react with outrage at this statement, “not because there is something wrong with you. No. I can't fix you because there is _nothing_ wrong with you. You love your husband, and that is a _wonderful_ thing, Wheatley. You should celebrate it, not try to stomp it out,” she finished gently.

Wheatley looked away bashfully, his eyes darting left, up, left again, down, and back to Dee before flicking left yet again. “B-but-” he lowered his voice to as quiet as he knew how to make it, which wasn't really very quiet at all– more like wrapping a blanket around a chainsaw motor. “ _What if he doesn't feel the same??_ ”

“Oh, sweetheart, don't worry about that. Go talk to him.” Dee had seen their kiss at the wedding. It had been almost comical, really, watching the two androids lean in, slowly, faces scrunched like two six-year-olds convinced they're about to contract a particularly nasty strain of cooties... only to bring their arms around into an embrace a few seconds later, pressing closer to each other, lips engaged in what could only be described as a _passionate snog_. It had certainly not been one sided, and anyone present would have been able to tell you that, but the two androids were... let's say not exactly renowned for their observation or reasoning abilities, and so Dee was gentle and patient with the taller Wheatley's concerns.

Somehow, she would not have been surprised in the slightest if the shorter Wheatley was twitchily attempting to go about his life at home, nursing the very same concerns.

The currently present Wheatley gulped – well, simulated a gulp, since the two robots did not eat and thus had no use for a functioning throat – and nodded sharply, his wide eyed, submissive posture making him look more like a puppy than an android should be able.

“Yeah, all right- yeah! I'll- I'll do it. That. I'll do that. Talk to him. A-about... ah-heh-” he laughed nervously at the thought, then attempted to disguise it with a cough, getting to his feet and frowning with what he hoped looked like steely resolve. Unfortunately, the 'steely resolve' look was ruined by the fact his eyes were still far too wide and, well, twitchy with nervousness. “Right- right, here I go. Going... going home now. To do... you know. What I just... yeah, you know. How- how do I look? Do I look all right?”

“You look lovely, don't worry- just go.”

Wheatley smiled, pleased, losing any remaining steeliness and replacing it with the look a neglected child might give you when told they did a good job on their spelling test. He turned, suddenly bursting with reassured enthusiasm, and practically stumbled out the door in his hurry, which closed behind him with a gentle 'click.'

Dee sighed – not with exasperation, or fatigue with Wheatley – both of them – but with fondness and care, as if it were one of her sons who just tripped over himself right through the door without a word... and, in a way, the androids _were_ like sons to her in their dependancy. They were like 10-year-old boys in adult bodies.

The door clicked open, two glowing blue irises peering into the dimness of Dee's living area. “Oh, um- hah, forgot to thank you, that's a thing, isn't it- _ahem_ -

Thank you!”


End file.
